Truth or Consequences
Eric Bonholtzer
There is a town that straddles the border
of fiction and reality, with desert air and blistering sun
As drifters migrate and lay claim for years
Like seconds, left over by the wayside.
In a place in the middle of nowhere
Where friends lay their heads to rest
And it is easier to watching the highway
Take it slow and observe the difference
Between what is real and what comes from reality
It is a place of dusty roads and bikes spewing fumes
Swirling with riders, running from something or for something
At the same time blending to create this place
Of existence and time out of mind
It can be done in this place,
Where possibility is always possible.
And the bright dry sky whispers
With clouds that drift lazily by, as if to say
Relax and enjoy the moment that is here forever.
As the sand crunches beneath boots that have seen too many roads
And too few safe havens and sleep filled nights. Now they still
Rest as doorways ever swing inward for cowboys and thieves
That if the silence is kept, it is possible to catch a glimpse
Of the evening air whistling, as it slowly passes by.
